


just you and the moon on my skin

by saltfromthesea



Category: Carry On - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: First Time, Fluff, M/M, Post-Book: Carry On
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-08
Updated: 2016-01-08
Packaged: 2018-05-12 12:55:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,542
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5666818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saltfromthesea/pseuds/saltfromthesea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Penelope asks some nosy questions, and Simon gets thinking.</p>
            </blockquote>





	just you and the moon on my skin

**Author's Note:**

> So look, I honestly thought that after finishing Madly On I wasn't going to have anything left in me for a little bit, but another one-shot slipped out. 
> 
> We're back to not long after the end of Carry On. Some innuendo, nothing explicit.

**_Penelope_ **

I’m not sure what it is that makes me decide to finally ask Simon the question that’s been burning a hole in my brain for basically forever. We aren’t doing anything special—he’s standing over the sink polishing off half a pie and I’m sitting at the kitchen counter flipping through a book when I decide I’m done wondering about it.

“Are you a virgin?” I ask, probably too bluntly, because he immediately drops his fork so aggressively that it bounces off the sink and clatters onto the floor.

“ _What_?” he says, not looking at me, bending over to pick it up. “I don’t—I mean, what makes you think—why do you want— _what_?” When he finally straightens up again, the fork clenched in his fist, I’m delighted to see that he’s blushing furiously. 

“I was just wondering,” I say, cool as can be. “I mean, I always kind of wondered when you and Agatha—”

“ _No_ ,” he says, more forcefully, “no, I—agh, Penny, why are we even _talking_ about this—” 

“No you’re not a virgin?” I say, and I’m not even heckling him anymore, I’m genuinely interested. 

“No, I mean, Agatha and I never—we didn’t—” Even the tips of his ears are red now. This is fascinating. (I think I’m maybe spending too much time around Baz these days. I’m suddenly understanding why he enjoys tormenting Simon so much.)

“You and Agatha never slept together?” I say, and it’s actually a surprise. I’d just assumed.

“No,” he says shiftily, grabbing his left elbow with his right hand.

“Why not?” I ask, leaning forward on my arms, and he shoots me a dirty look before sighing and running a hand through his hair. 

“I don’t know,” he says. “It was just…you remember how volatile my magic was back then.”

“Hard to forget,” I say dryly. “It tended to make an impression.”

“Well,” he says, still looking like he’d rather be somewhere else, but also like he’s warming to the subject in spite of himself, “you remember how basically anything could set it off. I mean, all I had to do was get irritated and thinks would start rattling. I just sort of wanted to avoid any strong emotion, you know? If I could? I didn’t want to do anything that could maybe hurt someone. And Agatha certainly never pushed the issue.”

This doesn’t surprise me. I know she loved him, but I never thought they were _in_ love. They certainly never seemed all that attracted to each other, when it came right down to it.

“And you and Baz?” I ask.

He’s blushing again. “I don’t know,” he says, looking at the floor. “It’s never really come up.”

“Mmm, yes,” I say, nodding. “That _is_ sort of essential, I can see how it would make things difficult.”

“ _Penelope!_ ” he yelps, his mouth dropping open. He looks positively scandalized. Personally, I’m tickled pink.

“What?” I say, trying to keep a straight face. “It’s _true_.”

“Well, fine,” he says pushing out his chest, ready to play the game now. “What about _you_? You and Micah do the deed some summer vacation?” 

“Shoot,” I say, looking over his head at the clock on the microwave. “I gotta get going, I’m late—did I tell you I’m staying with my parents tonight? It’s Priya’s birthday, we’re doing some sort of party thing.”

“Hey!” he’s shouting after me as I dash into my room. “That is _not fair_.” 

But I’m already brushing past him, my overnight bag thrown over my shoulder. “See you tomorrow, Simon,” I say, smiling wickedly at him. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

As the door slams shut behind me, I hear him grumble, “You know, I really hate you sometimes.”

 

\---

  

**_Simon_ **

Baz is actually here later that night. I mean, he’s here most nights, so this isn’t out of the ordinary. He’s not even doing anything unusual, just sitting on my couch with his feet on my coffee table, reading a book and not paying any attention to me.

Which is probably a good thing, because, for some reason, I am anxious beyond belief. Penny got me all worked up earlier, when really, I know there’s no reason to be worked up. I keep trying to sit down, but it doesn’t take; I get restless and jittery and hop back up again, my heart beating in my throat, pacing around the apartment.

“All right, Snow,” Baz says finally, apparently deciding this has gone on too long (though he doesn’t look up when he says it). “What are you freaking out about?”

“What makes you think I’m freaking out about something?” I say, trying to go for the calm-and-collected look, although I’m sure I look frazzled.

He glances pityingly at me over the top of his book, then looks back down at the pages. 

Well, fine. If he really wants to know, then I’ll tell him. I’m not really sure _how_ to tell him, but I’ll do it.

“Baz,” I say, finally. Firmly.

“Snow,” he drawls back, his attention still on his book. Absolutely nothing changes on his face, but I swear he’s enjoying this, the prat.

I inhale. Puff out my cheeks. Then say, “Why haven’t we slept together?” all in one breath.

Slowly, measuredly, Baz licks the tip of his finger, then uses it to turn the page. “What do you mean?” he says, like he’s only half paying attention to me. “I slept here last night.”

I’m fairly certain he’s being obtuse on purpose, but he’s so damn slick about it it’s hard to tell.

“Yes, but,” I stammer, “you didn’t—I mean, you know what I—”

He’s set the book down, finally, and is looking at me with one eyebrow raised roguishly, like he knows exactly where I’m going with this and has absolutely no intention of putting me out of my misery. 

I give up, huffing in exasperation, and flop down on the couch next to him, hard enough that he bounces a little in his seat. He’s got an odd expression on his face, like he’s trying to keep from laughing, and not quite succeeding.

“What I’m trying to say,” I start again, “is that I realize we’ve never….you know…” 

“Done it?” he offers impishly, and I scowl at him, but, yes, that’s exactly what I mean.

“Well,” I say. “Why not? I mean, don’t you want to?”

He puts his face in his hands and groans, bending forward until his forehead touches his knees. “I can’t believe you just asked me that.”

I think about this. “So, that’s a…”

He lifts his head up to look at me. “Crowley, Snow, that’s a hard yes I want to. _Obviously_. Where have you _been_?”

“Okay,” I say, rubbing my hands nervously down my thighs. “Um okay. Okay. Um. Stop it—why are you laughing?”

“I’m sorry,” Baz says, looking like he’s trying desperately not to laugh. He’s not doing very well—his shoulders are still shaking. “It’s just…I feel like you’re normally much more calm about this kind of thing than I am. It’s kind of nice to see you freaking out about it for once, instead." 

“Okay, well, that’s not fair,” I say. “In _every other aspect_ of our lives, you _always_ get to be the cool one.”

He smiles languidly. “That’s how it is,” he says.

I make a face at him, then shake my head. “Of course I’m a little freaked out though,” I say. “I mean, this is _new_. Is that so strange?”

He studies my face for a long minute. “No,” he says. “It scares me, too.” I must look surprised, because he laughs, and says, “What? Of course it does. Think about it, you don’t even have the vampire thing to deal with. In all honestly, I haven’t brought this up at all because I wanted to be sure I wouldn’t bite.”

I mutter something unintelligible, and he cocks his head at me. “What was that, Snow?” 

I clear my throat and say, louder, “You could probably bite a little.” 

His grin is a quicksilver flash across his face. “Don’t tempt me.”

He shifts closer to me, bringing a hand up and running his finger lightly down the line of my jaw. I lean into him. It’s incredible, really, how just this small gesture, his skin against my skin, can calm me down, even as it sends my heart rate careening.

“Look,” he says. “There’s no need to rush. We don’t have to do anything tonight.”

“Right,” I say, kind of relieved, but also surprisingly disappointed. “Okay.”

“However,” he breathes, as his other hand comes up to cup the side of my face. He’s so close now that our noses are brushing. “We could always just do this for awhile—” his mouth moves against mine, just for a second, and I close my eyes “—and see where it gets us?”

“That,” I say a little while later when we come up for air, “seems like a perfectly reasonable suggestion.”

  

\---

 

**_Penelope_ **

The two of them are acting oddly smug when I come back from my parents’ house. I expect this kind of behavior from Baz, but, frankly, I didn’t think Simon knew how to smirk like that.


End file.
